


To Catch Colours

by beazibo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ Storyline Event, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Jung Wooyoung is a Brat, Mentioned Jung Wooyoung, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Prince Park Seonghwa, Student Park Seonghwa, What Have I Done, have fun reading i guess, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beazibo/pseuds/beazibo
Summary: Seonghwa ignored Wooyoung’s comment as he stood up straight, gaze scanning the room to catch something he hoped to see. He realised now that that was the only thing left as to what he could remember from his dream so it wouldn’t hurt if he just hoped that maybe she was there..?Except, she wasn’t. And so he held on to what was left of the girl, hoping he wouldn’t ever forget it. He would meet her again. Someday.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	To Catch Colours

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo its nita and i decided to also publish this here JSHDKSG yes, if anyone was wondering this was my entry for the ateez storyline contest and i thought, you know, since it's here, why not share it with everyone else? i hope you'll enjoy the story hiihii
> 
> much love xx

SEONGHWA still didn’t know how he managed to get out of his apartment that day nor why he agreed but Wooyoung was a very convincing person; he was very persuasive. He made a mental note to scold the younger later on.

Originally, Seonghwa had planned this Saturday solely on spending his time at home, taking a break from the outside world and relaxing his mind from the many assignments he completed the past week (yes, including his history essay he submitted barely thirty seconds before the deadline). But Wooyoung suddenly called him at three in the morning saying he needed a friend to come with him to this art exhibition in the city.

(“What about San? Wasn’t he supposed to come with you?” Seonghwa had asked the younger male. He heard an exasperated sigh from the other side of the line before Wooyoung’s voice came back in.

“San suddenly has to go to his grandmother’s house―you know what? You come with me and I’ll buy you some chicken, how does that sound?”

Who could pass out on chicken, honestly?)

That was how Seonghwa ended up halfway through the line at the front of the national gallery with a bouncing Wooyoung by his side. Although the sun was up and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue, it wouldn’t make excuses for a harsh winter morning and thus, Seonghwa dug his hands further into the pockets of his parka jacket, teeth chattering and hair swept away in the wind.

“Can you please stop moving, God, Wooyoung it’s too early for you to be this hyperactive,” Seonghwa muttered, sighing in defeat as he saw his friend looking very over-energised. 

“I can’t help it! I’ve been waiting for this exhibition for almost a year now, can you please share just a little bit of my excitement?” the younger gushed, twirling on his heels.

Seonghwa buried his face in his hands, feeling an oncoming migraine from all the stress and exhaustion leading up to that day… with the added factor of Jung Wooyoung almost screaming in his ear. No, nine in the morning was way too early for this. He could only hope what they would be displaying was worth all the wait.

“Apparently the brochure says there’ll be a display of this newfound romantic painting from centuries ago! The article says it’s been lost for so long nobody knows about it nor does anyone know of the artist,” Wooyoung rambled, shoving the piece of three-folded paper into Seonghwa’s field of view. “But for now, they named it the ‘Prince’s Courtroom’. Isn’t that cool?”

Seonghwa twisted his face and moved Wooyoung’s finger away from resting above the picture of this said painting. If Seonghwa said his interest wasn’t sparked by this piece of art, then he would probably be lying. Anyone could tell this painting was pretty even just by looking at a picture of it and Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder how it would look like in real life. After all, Seonghwa was a lover of beautiful things and he could tell the artist had a very good understanding of them to be able to portray it perfectly.

From his side, Seonghwa heard a snort from Wooyoung. The older of the two looked up at the smirking boy, lifting his brow in question.

“ _Now_ I’ve caught your attention,” the latter teased and took the brochure away from his hands, “I know you’d be at least intrigued by this when I showed it to you.”

“Then why didn’t you do it earlier?”

Wooyoung grinned. “Because I’m your friend and you love me, of course you’d come with me!”

Seonghwa simply rolled his eyes. “I think you’re too confident with this. Mind you, I wasn’t even your first choice.”

“Ah, you still love me nonetheless!”

After waiting for what seemed like centuries, Seonghwa and Wooyoung finally entered the gallery and all its heater warmed glory. Seonghwa swore his fingers would have been at the verge of almost snapping off due to the cold if he spent another second outside―he was glad he was now inside. 

Wooyoung skipped ahead of him, seemingly overexcited by the fact that he was now at the art exhibition he had been looking forward to. (“For a year, Seonghwa, I’ve waited for a year and now the day has finally come!”) The older simply shook his head and watched as his friend marveled over all the huge paintings hung on the walls.

Seonghwa sighed. Might as well enjoy things while you can, right?

Okay, so maybe Seonghwa didn’t regret going out of his apartment that day as much as he thought. Walking through the gallery was surprisingly calming― _ he should do this more often _ . The gallery itself was a building of many spacious rooms with high ceilings and glowing yellow spotlights. The air was warmer compared to the air outside, heated by overhead air conditioners that made a quiet whirring sound. The gallery wasn’t loud, and everybody was minding their own business―some people stood up close to the artworks to read their descriptions, and others opted to sit on the benches in the middle of the room to admire the works from there.

The atmosphere was peaceful… maybe that was Seonghwa’s new favourite kind of feeling.

Now that Wooyoung wandered off somewhere (Heaven knows where that child went), Seonghwa felt that he could roam around freely by himself. Not that he couldn’t before, since Wooyoung was a big boy after all, but now he didn’t have Wooyoung pulling him in every other direction every other second.

Yeah, maybe he could walk around for a bit.

Seonghwa’s mind drifted back to the brochure Wooyoung showed him.  _ The Prince’s Courtroom _ … Seonghwa wondered where it was. If he could recall correctly, the brochure had said that it was a lost painting. The artist and the actual title of the work were still unknown since there were no records of it.

The dark haired boy continued walking aimlessly inside the gallery. Although he didn’t know the floorplan of this place as he’d never been there before, somehow it’s as if his feet knew where to go. There was a weird pull, an odd energy, as if luring him in a silent siren song. His steps felt right.

Now he was there. Seonghwa stared at the framed painting. His head craned back, eyes following the strokes of the brushes imprinted on the old canvas. The romantic movements of the colours triggered a familiar feeling in his stomach. Seonghwa tilted his head in interest.

It was tall and wide and although the colours had faded out, Seonghwa felt his mind spin like the painting was telling him that it was  _ alive _ . Printed on the painting was indeed a courtroom; one with high ceilinged wooden walls and long wooden chairs that rounded the room, tall arched windows, adorned with gold details and crystal chandeliers. There was a single throne at the head of the hall, overlooking the rest. By the throne was someone, standing high and sophisticated with his hand pointed forward. He wore a blue coat, chest decorated with several medals for the whole room to see.

_ Ah, that must be the Prince _ .

Then it came. Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows, lowering his head to think. What was that?

Jasmine tea, lavender, rain… 

Seonghwa turned his head around, eyes frantically searched for the source of the scent. It spun him round and round yet he didn’t know why he was looking for it. But something… something in it bewitched him. The scent pulled him into a familiar embrace, like it was a forgotten memory— _ deja vu _ . 

The sweet scent filled his mind, intoxicating him. The world was spinning. Seonghwa felt his vision darken, like the world had drowned into an inky mist. He must be dreaming, he thought—after all, what other explanation made sense? The man on the bench behind that was swallowed by the shadows and the child holding onto his mother’s hand had too disappeared into the fog. Inside, he felt himself panicking… where did everyone go?

He felt himself stumble backwards as the sting of pain in his head grew stronger. That was when he realised that although it was dark and everything had faded away, a soft glow of light caught his eye.  _ The Prince’s Courtroom  _ glowed brighter than he remembered. He didn’t know whether it was his mind playing tricks on him or maybe that he was having an unrealistic fever dream, but the painting shone like it was painted with purely glitter. The more he stared at it, the less the throbbing pain in his head. It was so inviting.

And then it was back to jasmine tea, lavender and rain. The faint scent grew stronger the more he took a step forward. Closer… closer… and even closer until Seonghwa was so close he could reach up and touch the canvas with the softest brush of his hand.

He was so close to the scent; the feeling was like he could reach out and be in someone else’s arms. The aroma spoke to him—Seonghwa swore to the Heavens above that it spoke to him in a foreign language he didn’t know but for some odd reason,  _ understood _ . It scared him a little, how he didn’t feel any sort of discomfort and all around him was just a sense of familiarity. In all honesty, Seonghwa wanted to turn back somehow, to the place where he was before but he was stuck in a dream-like bubble with seemingly no escape.

Seonghwa heard movement from behind him; swift and almost silent. He turned around, heart racing so unbelievably fast he was sure it could leap out of his chest. In front of him stood a figure; someone almost too otherworldly to be real. The figure almost glowed and Seonghwa thought it was almost impossible. He must be dreaming. There were no other explanations.

But the figure came closer and closer and Seonghwa felt himself take a couple steps backwards, further and further. It was a woman, whose hair cascaded down her back in loose ringlets. She wore a grey dress and the way she walked was as if she were floating on air. There was only one thing bothering him about her and the moment Seonghwa realised what it was, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice curling defensively.

The woman had no face. Where her eyes, nose and mouth should have been were distantly blurred into something distorted. Seonghwa felt his insides churn― _ who was this woman? How did she appear from the darkness? Why was she getting closer? _

“Who are you?” he repeated once again.

Seonghwa felt his back hit the wall―the painting―and internally felt himself panic. His hands tried to find something to hold on and it quickly rested on the golden frames that surrounded the art. 

“Who..?”

Then it hit him. That scent… Seonghwa caught a whiff of the woman’s scent. Her perfume? Seonghwa didn’t know but what he knew for sure that it was jasmine tea, lavender and rain. 

His back pressed harder on to the canvas as the woman inched even closer, invading his personal space. They were now face to face, yet still, Seonghwa couldn’t see anything resembling a visage. He tried to reach out, push her away and find the exit to whatever was happening. But he was met by thin air. His hand flew through her figure. Seonghwa felt his breath hitch.

Seonghwa tried to see her face again. He pictured where her features would be but each time he tried to imagine, the same throbbing pain shot through his head. The woman’s face remained the same blurred distortion and her identity was still left unknown. However, Seonghwa couldn’t shake off the sense of familiarity she seemed to carry. 

So, who was she?

The dark-haired watched with caution-coated curiosity, deciding to ignore the thundering thump of his heartbeats, as the woman raised her arm and she leaned closer and closer. With her in such close proximity, Seonghwa knew that if anyone else could see them, they would think this was something intimate. Jasmine tea, lavender and rain remained on her as Seonghwa watched her hand reach out to touch the canvas behind him.

Suddenly, the darkness was gone, replaced by an immediate blinding white that glared into his eyes. The light flickered turquoise, then aqua, then purple. Seonghwa shut his eyes at the abrupt contrast in his surroundings. He could see the brightness seep through his eyelids, making a soft indigo hue in his vision. 

At the same time, a harsh wind blew out of nowhere. Seonghwa let out a small surprised gasp when a strong surge of energy pushed his chest, forcing him to press further against the canvas before the solid media disappeared under his touch. 

Everything in Seonghwa’s mind went blank the second his body fell through. 

Fell through what? Seonghwa had no idea but he was standing, pressed against the wall one second and the next he was falling. His body went rigid, muscles tensed as a realisation dawned upon him―if he was falling, he was bound to hit the bottom.

Where was the bottom?

The last thing Seonghwa remembered before feeling a gentle chill washing over him was jasmine tea, lavender, and rain.

[]

He was still breathing. It took a moment for him to realise, but thank Goodness, he thought, he was still alive. Sure, maybe his muscles felt a little sore and his back ached when he tried to move, but he still felt air pouring in and out of his lungs. This little miracle was what made him think:  _ maybe things would be okay. _

Seonghwa opened his eyes and found himself staring at a blue sky. Where was he? As far as he remembered, although it hurt his head to try and recall the memory, earlier that day, the sky had been grey. How did he end up somewhere sunny and moreover―

“Prince Seonghwa? Are you awake?”

Moreover, why was he Prince Seonghwa?

Seonghwa clenched his fists and immediately sat upright. He swallowed deeply.  _ Prince Seonghwa? _

As soon as he sat, another pain shot through his head and he quickly cradled his head, groaning at the sharp sting. Once the pain subsided a little, Seonghwa slowly observed his surroundings. 

There were a lot of shrubs and plantations, trees and flowers. Underneath him was a gravel path with weeds growing in between the pebbles and Seonghwa’s eyes followed up the trail to see a marble fountain. He must be in a garden.

He groaned once more when he tried to move but was met by the slow pull of his muscles.

Someone hurried to his aid, holding him by the shoulders.“Your Highness, are you alright?” the man asked. “Are you hurt?”

“Where am I?” Seonghwa found himself asking the man.

“Why, you’re in the castle gardens, of course,” the latter replied, before proceeding to purse his lips. “You must have had quite the fall. Let us see the doctor.”

Seonghwa grabbed the man’s wrist and looked straight into his eyes. “Who am I? Can you repeat it again?”

The man gave him a look like Seonghwa just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “Are you asking me who you are? With all due respect, Your Highness, please don’t play any more games. The trial will start soon, we need you ready.”

With that, the man turned on his heels (wasn’t he supposed to take Seonghwa to see the doctor? What happened to that?) and disappeared behind a row of animal-shaped shrubs in the distance.

Well, that didn’t really answer his questions. Seonghwa still didn’t know where he was and how he got there, who that was and what he meant by ‘the trial’. And surely there had been a mistake. Seonghwa couldn’t be  _ Prince Seonghwa _ or whatever that meant… right? After all, Seonghwa was just Seonghwa; a normal university student who just last week finished a hectic schedule of a million assignments and had a friend named Jung Wooyoung who left him to wander around an art exhibition. Unless this was a dream. Unless this was part of a very clear haze of hallucination. 

But what kind of dream would cause pain when he pinched his skin?

Seonghwa decided he would not get anywhere if he stayed glued to his spot. So he heaved himself up to his feet and brushed down his thighs, getting rid of the dirt smudged on it. His hand halted in the middle of smoothing down his pants when something fell from his chest and dropped to the dirt. Seonghwa blinked at the object―it was circular in shape, shining and reflective of the blaring sunlight. 

He crouched down to retrieve it from the ground and found himself surprised at holding a Royal Navy medal in his hand. Seonghwa felt his mind fill with amazement―in this world… wherever he may be, he was not only a prince but was also part of the Navy? Seonghwa scoffed, ridiculed at the thought. This is definitely a dream and he needed to find a way to get out of it.

“Seonghwa!” someone from the distance called him.

The said boy froze at the voice, recognising very well as to who that voice belonged to. Seonghwa almost leapt from joy hearing it―finally someone he could ask his questions to and hopefully knew of the answer. He quickly stood back up on his feet and greeted the speaker of the voice.

“Woo… young?” Seonghwa found himself dumbfounded at the sight in front of him.

Wooyoung, at the very least, looked different. It wasn’t a bad ‘different’ either, in fact it looked rather fitting for him but it wasn’t anything Seonghwa was used to seeing. Back at home (wherever “home” was, Seonghwa had lost sense of it now) the younger had always worn a plain pair of jeans and on most days a simple black t-shirt. But now…

“What are you wearing?” Seonghwa asked in between muffled laughter.

In front of him, Wooyoung twisted his face in a look of confusion. “What do you mean?” he looked down at his body, “I always wear this.”

“What?” 

Seonghwa had to remind himself that this wasn’t normal Wooyoung, but still. Why was he wearing a fitted black coat, like something a prince would wear in those fairytale stories Seonghwa would have his mother read when he was little? Or like some sort of fancy musketeer he saw on that one movie he saw a couple of years back?

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist. “ _ What  _ what? You’re talking nonsense, Seonghwa, let’s go. I thought Anderson was supposed to get you earlier.”

Now Seonghwa was really confused. “Who?”

“Yes, I think we might need to get your head checked afterwards,” Wooyoung said with a grimace, patting Seonghwa on the shoulder, “but for now, we need to get to the hall. Remember those raiders? I hope you do, you sound a little bit off.”

All Seonghwa could do was nod, mostly because he needed time to think clearly.

Everything that had been happening as well as everything that Seonghwa had encountered seemed normal to everybody else. More reasons as to why Seonghwa thought he was living a dream. But he couldn’t be sure. There was something about it that made him feel like he was wrong, wondering if only he remembered what exactly happened earlier because he knew this wasn’t what his life was supposed to be like.

Did he travel back in time, perhaps? Seonghwa internally scoffed at the thought, catching Wooyoung’s attention as he followed the younger somewhere but waved him off. Time travel was impossible, that’s what Seonghwa believed. But other than a dream, nothing else made sense, right?

“Hey, uh, Wooyoung?” Seonghwa spoke.

The said boy hummed.

They entered a large building with two equally large wooden doors. So this was the castle. Seonghwa must admit, this place is amazing and if Seonghwa had the chance to live here in other circumstances, he would. It made more sense as to what the man he met earlier was saying―was this actually where he lived in this world? Would he even call this a different world? 

“I am Prince Seonghwa… right?” he continued.

Wooyoung nodded. “Yes, you are.”

“Which makes you…?”

“... your advisor  _ and  _ very close friend,” Wooyoung finished his sentence. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you but Anderson told me you had a nasty fall so you might not remember anything. I don’t know how you remember my name, honestly, if you didn’t remember Anderson’s.”

Seonghwa ‘oh’-ed. So the man earlier was Anderson.

“And I told you we will see the doctor after this but we have a trial to go to, so to refresh your memories, these raiders broke into the vaults last week and so the High Court has scheduled their trial today,” Wooyoung explained. “Now we only have a couple of minutes left to gather everything together. It’s best if you go ahead to the hall.”

As soon as Wooyoung finished his sentence, Seonghwa blinked. There was silence amongst the two until Wooyoung pressed his lips together, realising why Seonghwa hadn’t moved.

“Go straight through this corridor until you see another courtyard entrance, cross the yard, it’s the third door on your left,” Wooyoung sighed before bowing at Seonghwa, “now if you’d excuse me, Your Highness, I must see the guards.”

With that, Wooyoung parted ways with him. Seonghwa, who still found this whole situation funny, watched him with amusement glinting in his eyes.  _ Advisor, huh?  _ Seonghwa couldn’t ever imagine that happening in… wherever in the universe he was before.

Following Wooyoung’s directions, Seonghwa walked to the trial hall. Along the way, Seonghwa marveled at the interior of the building he was in. Somehow, it strangely reminded him of a place he’d been to before and no matter how much he tried to remember where exactly, all he remembered were the dim yellow lights and the display of paintings on the wall.

_ Ah, that’s right, it was the gallery. _

“Prince Seonghwa, Your Highness, thank Goodness you are here!” Anderson (Anderson? Seonghwa hoped he was addressing the right person) was standing in front of a pair of double doors after peering inside the room.

“Is this the trial hall?” 

“Well, yes, Your Highness, you have been here many times. I am sure you’ve gotten to know it well.”

“My apologies, my mind doesn’t seem to be cooperating with me today,” Seonghwa found himself apologising. Silently, he felt proud of how smart he sounded―he definitely could get used to this.

“Do you need to rest, Your Highness? Maybe we could postpone the trial.”

“It’s fine… Anderson..?” when Anderson didn’t correct him, Seonghwa let out a small exhale of relief. “We will proceed with the hearing today.”

Before he knew it, the double doors were pushed open and Seonghwa almost froze to the spot yet again. This room…. This room he had seen before. The high ceilings, wooden walls, wooden seats, the arched windows with highlights of gold and crystals. At the head of the room was another familiar object―the throne which he knew for sure he had seen. Seonghwa’s heart thumped hard against his chest when he looked at his own body; a blue suit.

Seonghwa knew where he was now.

_ The Prince’s Courtroom _ , and he needed to find a way out fast.

Seonghwa looked back at Anderson who urged him to get inside. Instead of the empty seats like what he saw on the painting, the room was now filled with people, of all kinds of people—villagers, guards, and three chained men who were lined up near the front of the room. 

So Seonghwa walked in with his chin held high. To the naked eye, anyone would’ve assumed he had done this a million times before (according to the world inside the painting, maybe yes) but inside, Seonghwa was frantically searching for something,  _ anything  _ at all to connect him back to the painting at the art exhibition.

Still nothing. 

As soon as he got to the front of the room, all went silent but Seonghwa was still searching. 

“Today we have gathered in this room to hear the trials of Mr. James Grey, Mr. Michael Henry and…”

Seonghwa tuned out of the atmosphere of the room, eyes focused, scanning every nook and cranny to find anything he could use to go back. As much as he thought this was nice and lavish, he couldn’t help but feel a clouded air in the world he was in, like it was a silent dream. Except it wasn’t and it made his heart wary.

He tried to imagine how he viewed the room back at the gallery. He scrunched his brows and looked over his shoulder and… there it was; a large mirror which he noticed was roughly the same size as the canvas of the painting.

This was it, this was how he was going to escape and return home to the real world. 

Throughout the hearing, Seonghwa never paid attention for any more than five seconds and kept his eyes trained on the mirror at the back of the room. He said what he thought was needed to be said and kept to himself for the length of the hearing. He saw Wooyoung come in the room halfway through the trial, Anderson next to him and the court members (at least, that was what he assumed they were) sat near the front.

There it was. Jasmine tea, lavender and rain.

Seonghwa’s head shot up, eyes desperately searching who he was looking for. He was so close, he had the urge to leave this hearing all behind and run, find his way out.

He didn’t want to be here so why was he sent here?

Behind him, the mirror flashed turquoise, then aqua, then purple. So fast Seonghwa almost missed it, but it was bright and impossible to not take notice. Like an aurora; beautiful, mysterious.

This was a sign, Seonghwa was sure of it. The scent, the mirror, the flashes of colours ― Seonghwa knew this was how he was going to get out. But there was only one thing, something else, that he was missing.

As soon as the mirror flashed again, Seonghwa threw his current duties out the window and rushed to the object, touching the smooth surface with his hand.

“Why isn’t it working?” he stressed out, pushing his hand against the cool glass.

Seonghwa bumped his fist against the mirror, watching it with desperation as it shook due to the force.

“Prince Seonghwa! What are you doing?” he heard Wooyoung cry out from behind him, somewhere.

He bumped his fist again, harder this time and a crack made itself visible on the glass. Pain due to the thump was nothing compared to his desire to return.

“Prince Seonghwa, stop! You may injure yourself!” 

_ Jasmine tea, lavender, rain… Jasmine tea, lavender, rain… where was it now? _

Seonghwa focused on the faint scent and felt himself being pulled away from the mirror. Wooyoung stood in front of him and clutched his hands in his. The younger inspected Seonghwa’s hand, grimacing at the harsh graze on the side and the small bleeding cut.

But Seonghwa caught it again. He tore his hands away from Wooyoung’s grip and stood by his throne, casting his eyes over the whole room.

Then he saw her.

She was standing by the entrance, hair covering her face, in the very same dress he saw her last in and Seonghwa still had no idea how she looked. But he knew her, he had been in her presence before ― her scent was all too familiar. Had she been there the whole time? How come Seonghwa didn’t notice? 

“Get that woman!” he pointed at her, catching the attention of every person in the room.

Harsh, but he didn’t have any other choice if he wanted to get her.

Just as he thought, the woman ran out of the room, her dress flying out behind her. Seonghwa jumped off the podium and rushed after her along with a series of guards.

The room became chaos; the previously quiet air was shattered and everybody was screaming. Some were putting restraints on the raiders who tried to escape, some others were trying to hurry out the room and some others were protesting against Seonghwa’s sudden movements.

Did Seonghwa care? He didn’t.

Seonghwa followed the woman out of the hall, into the courtyard, across the bridge over the moat and out of the castle grounds. He ran as fast as his legs allowed him to, feeling the intense burn on his calves but he had to see her. There was no way she was going to disappear on him again, not without him knowing who she was.

He had a feeling she was why this happened.

“Please! Stop!” he screamed after her. 

“You! Please!”

Still, she ran faster. 

Seonghwa cursed under his breath, getting rid of the suit he had on and threw it somewhere. He didn’t care. It was starting to bother him and he didn’t need anymore disruptions from anything.

He needed to breathe, his lungs screamed for more air but he couldn’t stop. If he did, he’ll lose her. Seonghwa couldn’t imagine what he needed to do if he ever did. He never wanted to be stuck here, she was his only way out… hopefully. And he had to know.

“Please!” he was almost crying now. 

Seonghwa wanted to go back home. He wanted to go back to Wooyoung, the dear friend he knew and eat chicken with him. He wanted to see the exhibition again, inhale the crisp winter air and dance in the Korean snow. He didn’t like this strange land…  _ please. _

There was only so much his legs could support him before they gave out. Not to mention that he ran so far, he could barely even see the towers of the castle behind the trees. Still, Seonghwa couldn’t give up.

They had come to sea. The girl ran along the cliffside, ocean wind brushing through her hair and looking back every once in a while as if she didn’t want to get caught. She still didn’t have a face, but at this point, Seonghwa knew her scent like the back of his hand. There was no mistake that the girl he saw at the exhibition was her.

Eventually, Seonghwa’s legs gave out. A wave of disappointment, anger and frustration washed him in a tsunami of emotions. As he collapsed on his knees, breathing heavily through his mouth, a million thoughts raced through his head. He could only pray, hope, wish this was nothing but a dream. A dream too real to be one, but one nonetheless.

What’s more was that Seonghwa still didn’t know her name. If he recalled correctly, he didn’t even see her face so how was he supposed to put up posters in search of her if he did end up getting stuck in this foreign world? Just a fictional world in which the artist had created with the strokes of his brushes.

Suddenly, the world felt so suffocating and Seonghwa wanted nothing more but to dig himself a hole and curl into it.

Seonghwa looked up one last time and saw that the girl had stopped running, facing in his direction.

“Please…” he whimpered and he cursed internally at how pathetic he sounded but this might be his last chance.

Bright flashes of turquoise and purple filled his vision as all his surroundings faded away into a familiar haze. The world then was only him and the girl, separated at a distance away; one chasing and the other running away.

Using what was left of his strength, Seonghwa hauled himself up and slowly approached the woman.  _ Please, please don’t go. _

It scared him to think if he ever moved a second too fast, she would disappear or run away again. There was nothing he feared more than losing her, but why did it feel like he had never gotten her in the first place. All he wanted was answers, to return where he belonged.Was that so much to ask?

He felt his heart plummet to the ground as the girl faced the ocean. If only he knew what she was thinking about, maybe he wouldn’t receive this much of a scare. 

Unfortunately, Seonghwa never had the ability to cast a mind-reading charm nor was he born with it. It was only understandable that Seonghwa felt immense panic as the girl sprinted to the edge of the cliff.

“NO!!” Seonghwa screamed, so loud his throat hurt, so loud he was sure it was his fear that spoke.

Hesitation, doubt and second thoughts left his soul at that moment and Seonghwa raced after her. His legs were already burning, knees buckling beneath him—but no matter what, he couldn’t lose her.

“Don’t do this!” he shouted, but all was too late.

The girl jumped over the edge and Seonghwa felt the first drop of tear escape his eyes.  _ No, no, no… Don’t go away again. _

With a clouded mind and what was left of his hazy string of sanity, Seonghwa jumped after her. An extended hand did nothing to reach out to hers. Seonghwa braced himself for the impact into the water and when it finally came, he knew this was over.

There was no oxygen left in his body. It would be useless for him to try and swim upwards because he was so, so tired. Maybe he wouldn’t end up back in the real world again. The ocean was his last resting place, and this time, Seonghwa could feel it through his bones.

He held onto the last thing he could remember with the last of his awakened state ― still the sweet scent of jasmine tea, lavender and rain. Somehow, it calmed him down a little despite the amount of water rushing through his lungs, letting himself surrender to the power of the Sea.

Before he closed his eyes one last time, Seonghwa saw a face. She was beautiful, with bright shimmery eyes, a button nose, and delicate lips. She looked unreal. She had a long pair of wings that seemed to glide along the water as she moved—sparkling under the rays of the sun breaking through the waves. He didn’t remember her having the pair of wings before.  _ What was she? _ Seonghwa thought with the very last threads of his wakefulness. 

As his eyes fluttered shut, he felt the strands of her hair caressing his face. A pair of hands supported his head as his world spun around him, no energy left in his bones as he felt his body grow weaker and weaker under the gravitational pull of the core of the earth. One last time, Seonghwa remembered the scent of jasmine tea, lavender and rain before a soft kiss on his forehead took him away.

[]

It was like taking a deep breath after being suffocated for so long. Seonghwa’s eyes shot open, awakened from the foggy world he was in earlier, out of breath and vision just a little out of focus. He surprised himself by finding out that he was standing right before the painting, that damned  _ Prince’s Courtroom  _ or whatever it was. His hand was outstretched, touching the textured surface of the canvas―it made him wonder, why was he even so close to the frame? As far as he remembered, he was admiring it from afar.

Seonghwa quickly pulled his hand away from the painting, backing away slightly. He stared up at the piece of art. It was still the same; the same courtroom with the same podium and the same prince standing with his finger pointed outwards. A distant recollection of something tucked at the back of his mind resurfaced. 

It was strange to think that he remembered seeing that before; somewhere where it felt real… but it was probably just a distant dream or a silly daydream he had. That place, he had no idea where that was. For all he knew, that place could’ve been nonexistent and it might’ve just been a coincidence that whoever painted this scarily had the same image of a room as him.

Yet in that moment, Seonghwa remembered this so-called dream clearly, as if whenever he wanted to, he could go back and touch the very same wooden walls of the courtroom. It felt so far away yet so near, and Seonghwa was confused.

Seonghwa especially remembered what he saw nearing the end of his dream. Who was that girl? Seonghwa knew the brain couldn’t make up a person’s face but he really, truly didn’t remember. He knew she had no name, at least he had never caught it… it just sparked his curiosity, is all. Somehow, in that dream, he felt an immediate attachment to her but what did an attachment even mean if he never knew who she was?

However, the more he thought of it, the more her face faded from his memory. They say you lose the recollection of your dream by the majority as soon as you wake up. Maybe Seonghwa was experiencing the same. All that was left was the rough picture of her running away from him, and she returned to being a faceless person with no identity.

Shrugging, Seonghwa turned away from the painting and went in search of Wooyoung. Wherever he was, Seonghwa needed to find him fast. He was feeling a little bit hungry, a little exhausted and the sound of chicken was too good of an opportunity to pass. 

“Wooyoung? Where are you?” he asked through the phone line when Wooyoung picked up his call.

“Oh! I’m at the gift shop! Come here! They have scented candles, you  _ need  _ to come and check them out!”

“Really? I’m right outside the shop, where are you?” Seonghwa peered in the gift shop, craning his head to see where Wooyoung was.

From inside, he saw an arm waving frantically in the air. Seonghwa chuckled at the sight of the top of Wooyoung’s head bouncing up and down, barely visible over the top of the racks in the store.

“Ah… okay, found you,” he hung up the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

As he placed the gadget back in his pocket, the side of his hand brushed against the material of his jeans. It made him hiss in pain, but why did it hurt? Seonghwa soon came to find out that there was a newly formed gash on the side of his palm and he frowned at the blood starting to seep out.

Shrugging, Seonghwa absentmindedly wiped the blood away with his other hand and continued on his way.

Wooyoung came out to see him, carrying three scented candles in his hands, all smiles and excitement. 

“Look, look! I think you may like these scents! Come, you can get a whiff of it with the testers!”

“Wha―” Before Seonghwa could say anything to greet the younger boy, he was already being pulled to the aisle packed with stacks of different coloured candles.

“Here! Smell it and guess what it is!”

Wooyoung brought Seonghwa’s head down closer to a few lit candles and immediately, Seonghwa recognised the scent.

“Jasmine tea, lavender… rain….”

The younger laughed, “no, silly! There are no rain scented candles, it’s probably because of the storm outside! The other one was vanilla but good job, you got the other two correct. How did you know?”

Seonghwa ignored Wooyoung’s comment as he stood up straight, gaze scanning the room to catch something he hoped to see. He realised now that that was the only thing left as to what he could remember from his dream so it wouldn’t hurt if he just hoped that  _ maybe  _ she was there..?

Except, she wasn’t. And so he held on to what was left of the girl, hoping he wouldn’t ever forget it. He would meet her again. Someday.

― end.   



End file.
